


Boys will be Boys

by Folle



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Multi, Pre-Slash, Slurs, evan has a filthy fucking mouth, ya know if i ever continue with this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/pseuds/Folle
Summary: Oh the wonders of dating a killer! There's nothing better! Except, perhaps,twokillers fighting over who gets you.





	Boys will be Boys

**Author's Note:**

> for an anon on tumblr two asked for trapper and another killer ( michael suggested) fighting over you.
> 
> fruedian slipped and almost wrote "two killers fucking over who gets you".

Sometimes you just end up in the best, and simultaneously worst, situations you can seem to find yourself in. Okay, so falling in love with a serial killer. Obvious bad. He kills people, gleefully, he kills /you/ just as happily. And yet you found yourself falling for him, and you were quite content to find out that he had a thing for not killing you and maybe getting in a good fuck or two. It was a nice thing you had going. He would try to hurt you not as much as he normally would, and you had some odd companionship to keep you warm during the those cold spans of times between trials. It even seemed downright _normal_ at times.

Then, enter one Michael Meyers. This boy was insufferably silent, and cold, and you thought you would be hating him just as much as any other killer. He was cool, composed, and nothing seemed to unnerve him in the slightest. But, you? You gave him pause. You don't know how you did it (you theorized that, perhaps, it was your gorgeous doe eyes, or perhaps your fantastic ass, but this man is like a statue), but sometimes he would stop chasing you in the middle of a trial and turn on his heel to walk off, or linger his fingers against your exposed skin when throwing you up on a hook.

Or, ya know, pinning you against a wall and _kissing_ you like he was learning how to breathe for the first time.

You might have been loyal to Even, but you weren't exactly one to pass up a hot body who was slightly less inclined to kill you than normally. You thought Evan would understand, it was just survival. You probably even would have slept with the Clown if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with him chasing you down in trials.

You thought to yourself "hey, they're never going to run into each other, they won't ever find out about what I'm doing!"

Oh boy, _oh mc fucking boy_ were you wrong. You see, Michael "the Shape" Meyers isn't just your average, run of the mill serial killer. He's a tracker, he finds you and he lurks to find where you've gone off to. So a bit too much time spent at Evan's, and not enough at Haddonfield, sends him searching you are.

You and Evan were having a nice night, day, time? A nice night in, just laying next to each other, not quite cuddling but it was nice. Quiet. No pressure to do anything other than softly chatting with him about this and that. Better than being chased around, or having to listen try to other survivors muffle their sobs into their collars at the campfire.

But, suddenly, you were no longer on the bed. In fact, you were quite a few feet above it. Someone carefully and deliberately threw you to the ground. And when you finally gained your bearings, you groaned. Michael. Of course it was Michael, here to find you, and trying to get his knife into Evan's throat, while the man in question was keeping him at a distance with his feet.

Michael didn't even make any noises while he was going for Evan, or made a substantial amount of effort. He hardly even grunted when he was roughly launched away and crashed into the opposite wall. Evan grabbed his cleaver from under his pillow and started swinging. He hardly even stopped to put on his mask.

"So, you're boning them to?" he asked, aiming for Michael's head. He wasn't quite expecting Michael to roll under him and stab him in the calf. "Can't blame you, but they're mine. And I'm not afraid of some pussy in a William Shatner mask try to kill me over it."

You could only really bury your face into your hands and wait for this all to be over. You weren't quite worried about either of them, you were certain that the Entity wouldn't let some of it's best killers off each other. But you knew leaving was absolutely not an option, so you decided to stay planted and pretend that all that grunting was them just really going at it. Yeah, sure, that's it. They're just going to have really hot, passionate sex and totally not fight over you.

You only looked up when things quieted down for a few moments. Both of them were worse for wear. Michael's mask had taken a few blows, and for once you could see a singular, startling blue, bloodshot. There was also a slit over his lips that showed a sliver of lip. At some point, he had tied the sleeves of his coveralls around his waist, significantly more tattered and bloodstained than earlier. Underneath he wore a form fitting black t-shirt, and his sculpted arms were covered in bruises, scars, and a fresh wound or two.

Evan wasn't in much better condition than Michael. There was more than enough stab wounds littering his body, and you could swear that his hand was clamped over a profusely bleeding wound that you swore a chunk of metal had previously been lodged in. Both of them were panting, chest heaving with each labored, pained breath.

Michael in particular, had a sharp, hitched breath. You couldn't see it as well a few moments earlier, but the hand pressing into his side was quickly seeping blood, staining his pale skin. He didn't turn away from Evan, but his singular exposed eye shot down to look at you.

"Are- are you two done throwing a hissy fit now?" you asked in a shaking voice. There was always an added element of danger being so bold when any of the killers were this riled up, especially outside of a trial. All it would take were a few misplaced words, and a killer rushing forward and snapping your neck, or smashing your skull in, and it would be all over. You didn't know exactly what would happen to someone when they died, for good, in the Entity's realm, but you suspect it wasn't good.

"You done being a slut?" Evan snapped back. He slumped heavily against a nearby wall, leaning his head against it.

"Oh boo hoo, I like someone else," It was a task to get back to your feet, your knees always were absolute shit outside of trials. "I can like other people, you don't own me."

Evan went to lunge forward, and Michael tried stabbing him but both found themself too mangled to do much. Evan found himself sitting himself down on the floor, and Michael had to use the rusty bedpost as support. "I" do, and you better not fucking forget it," he snarled. "How could you fall for this _faggot_ , leave me over him?"

Michael threw his knife at Evan, but lacked the power. Its blade hardly grazed the skin on his bicep.

"I'm not, you Goddamn idiot, I'm not leaving you." The adrenaline rushed through you, and decided it was not or never. You grabbed Evan's face, ripping off his mask. "I can love more than one person, and me loving someone else does not, in any way, diminish how much I love you."

He wasn't saying anything, as per usual, but you could feel the smug aura coming from Michael.

"And you! Who says you can just charge in here and start fighting someone because, I don't know, you're jealous!" Michael snapped out, and grabbed your wrist in an iron clad grasp. "You better think real carefully about your next move, because we're in a _real_ delicate situation, and I'm not sure how much you've got left in you after that fight."

For once in his life, Michael makes a wise decision, and loosens his grip on your wrist, and instead returns his hand back to his leaking wound. You wipe your hands down your face, and plop on the bed. "God, what the hell am I going to do with the two of you?" you mumble, mostly to yourself.

You hear more labored breathing, and some grunts, and then the bed dips down next to you. You're forced to lean against the familiar, sturdy warmth of Evan. You look over to Michael, who stiffly slips to your other side, and winds his free hand between your fingers.

"'Spose he can't be that bad, if he'd fight me for you," Evan mutters under his breath.

"So, you're fine with us being a, I don't know, a thing?" you ask, craning your neck up to peer at Evan through your lashes.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Just not doing any gay shit with him. Not touching or being friendly either. But I can tolerate whatever the hell you two have," you swear you can hear Evan getting _sheepish_. "If it makes you happy."

"What about you Michael?" you ask, turning your head to face him.

He stares at you, his singular exposed eye and blank and emotionless as his mask. He holds his gaze, not even blinking, before leaning his head against your shoulder, shuffling ever so closer.

You sigh and shake your head slightly. "My boys," the words rolling against your tongue feels... odd, but they fit in your mouth well. "You're both insufferable.


End file.
